


The Cold Light of Day

by Laminamara



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laminamara/pseuds/Laminamara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson and Lydia seem to be the ultimate power couple. How then did they get from experiencing tender love to the place where they seemingly feel indifferent to each other, only to end where they started: Still loving each other deeply. This is their journey of two seasons from their perspective. Selected scenes told from the alternating views of Jackson and Lydia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Season 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to MTV and Jeff Davis, but I do so like to play with the characters. ;)_

_A.N.: I have heard many people say that the Jydia relationship has been retconned for the finale. This is my attempt to show that no, it hasn’t been. It’s been there from the start, you just have to look close enough. I think Holland Roden and Colton Haynes do so much with their expressions, with small gestures, that it is possible to see what lies beneath the surface. So, enjoy. :)_

Jackson

Lydia’s lips are soft and warm as they claim his mouth with determination. Her small hands are feather light touches on his shoulders as her fingertips glide over his skin in tender caress. He pulls away with reluctance and turns over to the nightstand. He opens the drawer and smiles as his fingers find what he is looking for. His hand closes around the cold metal before he turns back to her. Kissing her shoulder, he leans over to present her with his gift. “Here, it’s to the front door.”

She takes the golden key and stares at it. “A key to your house? Already?” Her teasing, but slightly inquiring tone makes him smile. He nuzzles her shoulder, murmuring: “Come on, it’s…it’s not a wedding ring.”

A high laugh escapes her throat. “So you’re just making me a more accessible booty call.” It sounds cocky, light-hearted, but he can feel her slight trembling under his hands, the way she snuggles imperceptibly closer to him.

This is her pretending to be indifferent, to not be affected and so he plays her game. “Late night, late afternoon, mid-morning…” His lips touch the soft skin of her shoulder blade. He presses himself closer to her and when her hand closes over his own, lightly stroking the back of it with her thumb, he can’t help the smile which tucks at the corners of his mouth. Feeling Lydia’s warmth, her still body nestled against his…for the first time in a long time he feels at peace with himself.

Lydia

When Jackson separates his shoulder, her first instinct is to fuss over him; do everything in her power to make it better. Yet, one does not become the most popular girl in school by behaving on impulse; it takes careful consideration and an awareness of how one’s actions appear to others. And so she gives him a pat on his good arm, a passionate kiss on the mouth and a whispered promise of certain things she would do to help him be fit for the game.

Then she spends the next few hours listening to him complaining about the possibility that he will be unable to play, complaining about McCall and the fact that he wants to rip his head off; until finally she thinks her head is going to explode and she suggests he get a cortisone shot for his injury. She goes with him to the doctor, knowing his dislikes for hospitals, and waits until he finally comes back from the appointment.

“Did he do it?”

Jackson rotates his shoulder, dissatisfaction evident in his voice when he replies: “He said not to make a habit of it, but one cortisone shot won’t kill me.”

“You should get one right before the game, too.” Her suggestion is met with an annoyed look, but she knows her boyfriend. He might be annoyed now, but he wants to play – and to win – this game at all costs and if he doesn’t play he will be cranky for weeks. It is one thing she loves about him, his ambition, because she can relate to it. He wants to be the best and so she wants him to be the best, even if he needs tough love to be reminded of it. “The pros do it all the time. Do you wanna be a little high school amateur, or… do you want…to go…pro?”

From the way he kisses her she has her answer.

Jackson

By the time they are stuck in the school at night, he has become so obsessed with finding out McCall’s secret and a way to get to him, he can barely think about anything else. It consumes him, the need to be on top again; it is like a fire inside him whose bright, hot flame burns up his insides until nothing else seems important. He can’t shake it and so he goes after what he wants with single-minded determination, including getting close to Allison.

He doesn’t care for Lydia’s disapproving gaze when he talks to Allison in front of the car, nor does he notice her horrified expression when he holds Allison’s hands right in front of her. What he does notice is that it isn’t her who runs to him when Stilinski punches him in the face, who asks him if he is all right. So he lashes out at her when she asks about the wounds on his neck: “As if you actually cared!”

Yes, she asked about them before, half-heartedly and flippantly, and he isn’t sure anymore if it was her usual pretense of not caring or if she simply doesn’t. He was feeling so sick, and he looked it, and she didn’t even acknowledge it. When does the game cease to be a game and start to be the truth? He doesn’t know and he is too proud to ever ask.

Lydia

When Scott wants to talk to her in private, she jumps at the chance. Unable to get rid of the image of Jackson smiling at Allison, holding her hands, it plays over and over in her head. He is Jackson, he doesn’t just smile at people, not like that. It worries and infuriates her at the same time. He is not supposed to be interested in other girls, not when he has her own gorgeous self by his side; who does he think she is? Then Scott comes along and presents her with the perfect opportunity to quieten the voice inside her which screams for retaliation.

“Are you grateful?” he asks.

“I think you’d be pretty surprised at just how grateful I can be.” She makes out with him to spite Jackson, driven by the urge to prove, even if it is just to herself, that she can have anyone she wants.

Jackson

He breaks up with Lydia in the most indifferent way he can think of, with a text message. He’s found out that it was McCall she made out with and the knowledge sets off an onslaught of different emotions – anger, hurt, loneliness, self-loathing. It confirms to him what he has suspected for a while: that he is not good enough for her anymore, that she craves someone with power and that someone is not him. His desire to return to what he once was, the top-dog everyone looks up to, intensifies; he needs to stifle the feeling of unworthiness that festers and grows inside of him and there’s only one way to do that: to get the bite, no matter how. It becomes increasingly clear to him that Lydia is a distraction he can’t afford, something that keeps him from concentrating on what’s really important.

That’s what he tells himself as he cuts off the ties to one of the only persons in this world that matter to him. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing how her make-out session with McCall has affected him, he dumps her with a smile on his face. He’s had a lot of practice at letting people see only what they are supposed to see. “In preparation for some big changes, I’ve decided to drop some of the dead weight in my life…and you’re just about the deadest.”

He starts to walk away when she pulls him back by the sleeve of his jacket. “Dumped, by the co-captain of the lacrosse team. I wonder how many minutes it’ll take me to get over that.” He shrugs and blows her a kiss, leaving her standing in the hallway. Her upset words follow him: “Wait, seconds actually, seconds!”

He believes her.

Lydia

The winter formal turns into her worst nightmare. First, she has to watch Allison occupy her usual spot in Jackson’s Porsche, then he snubs her, not even looking at her dress once, and finally she has to watch them dance together. Granted, Jackson looks miserable and really bored, the bottle of vodka never far from his mouth, but in the end it’s just a small comfort. Apparently for him everything else is preferable to spending time with her and it hurts. She wonders how they got to this place, this cold place where she’s all alone and he won’t even look at her. He’s always been her partner in crime, them against the world, and she doesn’t yet know how to take on the world alone.

Now she has Stiles to contend with for the evening, by courtesy of Allison, and she is so surprised and flattered by the speech he gives her, she figures she owes him a dance. What can she say? After watching Jackson studiously ignore her for the last hour, she is starved for some attention; she’s also a sucker for compliments. Yet, he is never far from her mind and as nice as dancing with Stiles is – his arms are surprisingly strong around her waist – he is just not the one she wants.

When she notices Jackson has disappeared, she worries; he has drunk a lot of alcohol and God knows where he’s wandered off to. Wondering about when exactly she developed masochistic tendencies – how else can she describe the need to look for Jackson when she is sure certain humiliation awaits her? – she untangles herself from Stiles and goes off to find her ex.

Jackson

He finds Lydia unconscious on the field, her dress torn, blood everywhere and for a moment he cannot breathe. The paralysing fear that she might be dead suffocates him and it takes him a second before he is able to close the distance and fall to his knees beside her. His efforts to shake her awake don’t work and he knows he doesn’t have much time. Picking her up, he makes his way through the woods, all the while murmuring to her, pleading with her:

“Come on, Lydia. Stay with me, come on.” He sees the lights of the school, the crowd of people in front of it and his despair bursts out of him. “Help me! Somebody help, help me, get help, please!”

There are screams and people running away and for a moment he considers taking her to the hospital himself, not willing to waste anymore time. It’s the fact that he’s drunk too much which makes the decision for him to wait for the ambulance; he can’t risk having an accident with her in the car. When the ambulance finally comes, he’s right on its heels until his tires screech to a halt at the hospital entrance.

He’s on his way to see her when he is stopped by Stilinski’s father. Questions and accusations fly at him until the sheriff grabs him by the collar of his shirt and practically screams into his face. “What happened to her?”

“This isn’t my fault.”

“She’s your girlfriend, that’s your responsibility!”

He deflects, words about Stiles and the winter formal tumbling out of his mouth to get the sheriff off his back. But when he is finally able to look at Lydia, lying in the hospital bed with an oxygen mask over her mouth, he knows that this could have been his fault. He’s aware of the dangers and risks becoming a werewolf entail and not only to himself, but to the people associated with him. If he really got the bite and carried on with Lydia the way he had, the same thing might as well happen to her because of him.

It hurts him to see her so vulnerable and fragile, so open to the world with her defenses down; this isn’t how Lydia would want him to see her. The longer he stares at her, the more the sight of her unconscious form reinforces his decision to break up with her and he’s glad, glad that he’s out of her world.

_A.N.: I hope you liked it. Let me know what you think, reviews are always appreciated. :)_


	2. Season 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson and Lydia seem to be the ultimate power couple. How then did they get from experiencing tender love to the place where they seemingly feel indifferent to each other, only to end where they started: Still loving each other deeply. This is their journey of two seasons from their perspective. Selected scenes told from the alternating views of Jackson and Lydia.

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to MTV and Jeff Davis, but I do so like to play with the characters. ;)_

Lydia

When Jackson screams at her in the middle of the hallway, in front of everyone, it crushes her. He has always been high-strung, temperamental, using his anger at the world to cover up what he is really feeling. She could understand that, the necessity to hide behind a mask, to not be vulnerable; she understood him. But lately his need to be the best, to prove himself, has turned into an obsession. He is searching for something and she doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know how to help him and he is drifting away from her. Every time she tries to reach out to him, he only slips farther away and she can’t handle the thought.

Sobs wreck her body and she rips off a bunch of toilet paper to stem the flow of her tears. The realization that she’s become one of those girls who lock themselves in the bathroom, crying because of a boy, hits her and she’s ashamed of her own patheticness. But with all that has happened to her over the last few weeks, she feels lonelier than ever before and she doesn’t have it in her to stop the tears. They keep coming and all she wants is for Jackson to hold her, to tell her everything is going to be all right, but he doesn’t care anymore. He discarded her like one of his old lacrosse helmets, never looking back. She’s not used to feeling so helpless, it is an unknown concept to her, and it frightens her more than anything else.

The control she so desperately craves is eluding her and she has no idea how to get it back.

Jackson

The anger he is feeling has become a constant in his life, always bubbling under the surface, waiting to emerge at any given moment. Yet it subsides in an instant when Lydia touches the chain around her neck and pulls out his house key from between her breasts. He lets out a halting breath of shock and disbelief and the feeling of shame at his behaviour is almost immediate. But he can’t take it back and she grabs his hand, placing the key in it; forcing him to take it. Raising her eyes quickly to her, he finds that he is unable to look at her.

“I hate you, I hate you so much.”

He swallows, stunned by the feelings he sees in her sad eyes, overwhelmed by what this might mean. “No, no you don’t,” he whispers and it is as much a realization as a surprise to him.

“I should. I should hate you.” He can’t stand to see her cry. Her tears awaken a part of him that had been asleep for a while, something forgotten in a corner of his mind, waiting to be remembered. And remember he does.

His hand finds her way to her cheek; she still matters to him and he needs her to know it. “Don’t.” She pulls away slightly, but he can’t let her back away now. “Lydia.”

The word is a mere whisper. He steps closer, his thumb stroking her chin. For a moment their foreheads touch and they linger, lost in the first close contact in months, before they kiss. He tastes her lips, feels the softness of her hair, the closeness of her body and realizes with painful clarity how much he has missed her. He never wants to let her go again.

Lydia

Allison talks to her about love and her insides clench. She remembers her own younger, more naïve self, waiting for Jackson to pick her up for school, her heart hammering in anticipation until she sees his grey Porsche turning the corner, until she can lay her eyes on him. She remembers thinking that it would last forever, the feeling of happiness, the giddiness that she hides from everyone; that nobody could take that away from her. What a fool she’d been.

“Don’t you remember what that’s like?”

She stares at Allison. Allison, who claims to be her friend, yet is lying to her. The friend who doesn’t know, nor seems to care, how much Jackson means to her; who stole his attention away from her, who danced with him at the winter formal while she herself was forced to watch, her heart breaking in her chest. Allison, who refuses to tell her where Jackson has gone and thinks that her own love life is the only thing in this universe that matters. She will be damned before she ever admits anything to Allison. Her feelings for Jackson are hers and hers alone. So she replies with the only answer left to her. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’? You’ve had boyfriends.”

She takes in Allison’s uncomprehending expression while her mind wanders to a darkening room and a shared kiss. “No, not like that.” The key she found abandoned on the floor lies heavy against her heart as she leaves the car.

Jackson

He hears her voice from far away, the words penetrating through a thick haze until they finally reach him. Then suddenly, full awareness comes and he is left staring at Lydia’s fingers, lightly touching his arm. For just a moment her face is a sight which warms him, a light in the dark. Then he takes in her small smile, the intimacy and hope hidden behind it, and relief is replaced by terror. She is utterly too close to him, to what he has become, and the fear of what he might do is overwhelming. He can’t have her near him and the realization hurts him deep inside. “You don’t want me there, trust me.”

For a second the disbelief is visible in her eyes before she continues in a gentle voice: “Don’t worry about it. Look, I’m over it, of course I would want you to…”

He grabs her arm, desperately grasping at the fleeting moment of sanity, of control, afraid the darkness will claim him too early. She needs to understand. “You do not want me there.”

Lydia slowly pulls away and he despairingly looks at the empty space where her hand had been. “I’ll see you there,” she says, looking stunned and a little bit scared before she turns around and walks away, leaving him to the darkness once again.

Lydia

She stares at Jackson’s body, his head still between her hands, and the world stops around her. The only sound she hears is the rapid beating of her own heart and the painful absence of his. She remains in this position until she is pushed aside by a medic and is forced to let go of him. All the noises come flooding back in a rush and it overwhelms her senses. She watches him being carried away on a stretcher and the feeling that she’s somehow abandoning him crushes her chest. So when she later gets the message that Jackson is alive and that she can help him, there is no doubt in her mind about what she has to do.

Stiles doesn’t understand, talks instead about how he wouldn’t be able to live without her. “Death doesn’t happen to you, Lydia, it happens to everyone around you, to all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they’re gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it.”

She has never seen him this agitated and it creeps her out a bit, the way he talks about her possible death. It also makes her angry; how does he think she is supposed to live with herself if Jackson dies and she hasn’t done everything in her power to help him? If she has to stand looking down while his coffin is being lowered into the ground, knowing she could have done something to prevent it? She is barely able to understand how Stiles can make this about himself when it really has nothing to do with him.

And so she puts up with his outburst, accepts his apology and leaves. Jackson is calling out to her and she will answer.

Jackson

The claws rip through his body, tearing his insides apart, and he falls forward onto the ground. Lydia’s arms hold him up as he struggles to breathe and he finds himself looking into her eyes. Those big, green eyes which are so familiar to him are full of pain and he regrets that once again, he has been the cause of it. He feels his life slowly ebbing away and he has no time left for pride, no strength left to pretend any longer, nor can he remember why it ever seemed important to pretend in the first place; he just has to know.

“Do you,” he can barely get the words out, “do you still…”

But she knows him, knows him better than anyone, and she doesn’t need to hear them. “I do. I do still love you.”

Hearing her say it, mean it, settles something inside him; it quietens the raging fire which has been burning him up and soothes his soul. Lydia’s love had been a distant memory, something he had lost, if not through his fading popularity, then through his own behaviour. That she still loves him after everything he’s done, that he’s still good enough for her…it touches him in ways he can’t comprehend.

She is crying, murmuring the words over and over, and it’s like a sweet lullaby, putting him to sleep. He has many regrets, but this is not one of them. Lydia’s safe now and knowing that she’s loved him, through everything, is enough. It’s enough for him.

_A.N.: I loved writing my version of the final scene. It was, imo, hands down the best scene of Teen Wolf up to date. Let me know what you think, reviews are always appreciated. :)_


End file.
